


A Uniquely Portable Magic

by littledaybreaker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 22:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6878182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledaybreaker/pseuds/littledaybreaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bucky is given the opportunity to start again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Uniquely Portable Magic

**Author's Note:**

> I FEEL LIKE THIS REQUIRES SOME EXPLANATION BECAUSE IT'S MY FIRST MCU FIC AND I AM A NERVOUS, ANXIOUS PERSON.
> 
> Takes place immediately following the ending of Civil War but in a slightly alternate universe where two suppositions are made: 
> 
> 1) that Bucky has another option other than being frozen (ie, intensive inpatient therapy) that is present and organized for him
> 
> 2) that Steve and Tony speak and make some form of amends prior to Steve mailing Tony the letter and that absurd flip phone.
> 
> It ignores some canonical events of Civil War, but not enough where I feel like it should be classified as an AU at all, other than the fact that it changes the end of the movie. 
> 
> Title (and subsequently, the epigraph) comes from Stephen King's 11/22/63.
> 
> Please give me your feedback. Even if it's "I hate it". Because again. I am the most nervous and anxious person on planet earth.

_"But I believe in love, you know. Love is a uniquely portable magic. I don't think it's in the stars, but I believe that blood calls to blood and mind calls to mind and heart to heart."_

~Stephen King, 11/22/63

On the evening before Bucky is supposed to go back under, Steve finds himself alone with him for the first time in God only knows how long. Since Brooklyn, he thinks, perhaps. An entire lifetime ago. 

He’s dreamt of this a million times over--of being safe and at peace with Bucky. None of his dreams, however, were quite like this. He’s dreamt of going home, of retiring the shield permanently in favour of a quiet life in Brooklyn, trading fantastical adventures for quiet Sunday mornings and an apartment with a record player, for watching the six o’clock news instead of featuring on it. And things were so different now--they wouldn’t even have to hide now, not the way they had to all those years ago. He knows now it won’t be idyllic, at least not at first--there’ll be inpatient therapy and outpatient therapy and miles to go before they sleep, so to speak, before Bucky is fully himself again, but what is left is possibility. If only Bucky could see it that way.

 

He stands in front of Steve now, his stump carefully bandaged, hair clean, smelling faintly of Ivory soap the way he did when they were kids. It causes a flood of memories to swell in Steve’s chest, reminds him of everything that he’s losing now. 

 

He indulges himself a moment, allowing himself to get lost in a daydream of the first time they ever kissed. They were kids--fifteen, perhaps sixteen, and one of them (Steve can’t remember which, now) had wondered aloud what it would be like to kiss. So much of their old life has begun to fade away now, but this remains sharp and clear, because the feeling of Bucky’s lips on his lips was the most natural thing Steve had ever experienced. 

 

He’s remembering it now because this situation isn’t so different, at the base. They’re both trying to navigate through a strange new world, together but somehow separate, neither one of them knowing exactly what they’re doing but determined to figure it out. Steve wants to kiss him again, to draw him into his arms and refuse to let go, but something in him tells him not to. So instead he stands a respectable distance from his old friend--the only person he’s ever truly loved, really--and tries to memorize him exactly has he is in this moment, his clean hair, his soft skin, the bright intelligence and humor behind his blue eyes, dull and lifeless for so long. Neither one of them speaks until Steve finally says, quiet, tentative, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

 

At Steve’s words, Bucky’s face clouds over, his head snapping up. “What other choice do I have?” he snaps, causing Steve to recoil a bit. “Until they figure out how to get all of this shit out of my head, what else am I supposed to do? Sit around here and wait for someone to come along and microwave my brain again until I’m a killing machine? That sounds great, Steve, that sounds absolutely peachy.”

 

Steve takes a step back--recoils, really--and regards Bucky from a distance. He isn’t entirely sure what he expected, but Bucky’s words, his demeanour, sting. He considers throwing his hands up, throwing in the towel, but neither Steven Rogers nor Captain America has ever really been known to do that. So instead, he steels himself, speaking slowly and carefully. “There’s a place in New York State--a psychiatric hospital--for people who have been through things like you and I went through.” It was Tony who had originally told Steve about the place, a fact that makes Steve’s chest ache now. “They can help you, and then, when you’re doing a little better...I can bring you home. I have a place in Brooklyn, we can...we can make a life together.” 

He can see Bucky’s shoulders start to relax, slump almost, sees his facial expression soften as though he’s considering it, and hope swells in his stomach. “I--I don’t know,” Bucky says, voice hesitant. “I don’t--I think I might be beyond help.” 

Steve steps forward, draws Bucky into his arms, and just holds him there a moment. “Think about it, okay?” he says, soft into Bucky’s ear. “And whatever you choose, Buck, just remember--I’m with you…”

“Til the end of the line,” Bucky replies, breaking away from the hug. “I know. Thank you.” He turns his body away, expression unreadable. “Goodnight, Steve,” he says quietly, disappearing off into his room and leaving Steve, not for the first time, alone.

 

It’s late when Steve feels Bucky crawl into bed with him, so late that at first he doesn’t quite register the dip in the mattress, not until he feels the warm weight of his friend’s body settle in against his own. Acting on an ancient instinct, he closes his arms around Bucky, snuggles his face into his shoulder--his human shoulder. 

“Leggo,” Bucky whispers, and Steve murmurs half-asleep protest, that is, until Bucky wriggles his way free and faces Steve, poking at him. “Wake up,” he says, and Steve peeks one eye open, smiling in spite of himself at Bucky’s smirky, self-satisfied expression. “Time’s it?” Steve asks, and Bucky shushes him, leaning in to kiss him on the mouth. “You know,” he says, “I don’t really want to leave you.”

“So don’t,” Steve replies, trying to tilt his head down for another kiss, provoking a laugh--a real laugh--from Bucky. Music to Steve’s ears. “Just kiss me again.”

“I can manage that,” Bucky says softly, pressing their lips together again. 

 

They lay like that, kissing, Steve’s arms strong on Bucky’s back, until age-old reflexes began stirring, and Steve draws back, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, trying to get free. But Bucky pulls him back in, leaning in close to speak against his ear. “Let’s see if we remember how this works,” he says, and all Steve can do is sigh. 

 

They make love for what seems like hours--learning each other’s bodies again, remembering old things and discovering new ones, until they’re both boneless and happier than Steve can ever remember being. They fall asleep tangled together, and when Steve wakes up, God-only-knows how many hours later, Bucky is smiling at him. 

 

They don’t speak for a few long moments after they both rise. Someone comes with breakfast and coffee on a tray for Steve, hands it to him with a knowing smile and returns a few minutes later with Bucky’s breakfast, too--something that both of them dissolve into giggles over like schoolchildren. That is enough to break the silence, and Bucky says, slowly, carefully, breaking into his poached egg, “What did you say the name of that hospital was?” 

Steve lifts his head, heart filling with singing hope. “It’s called the Edwards Hospital,” he says, trying to keep his tone conversational. “They have an inpatient program and then when you--” he realizes he’s babbling and folds his hands in his lap. “Sorry,” he says. 

“Don’t be.” Bucky’s eyes are twinkly, amused, his own, and his expression causes Steve’s heart to hammer hard in his chest. “And they’ll take me?”

Steve nods eagerly. “I’ll have to make a phone call, but they’re waiting for you.” 

“I’m scared,” Bucky says. “I’m terrified, Steve, but last night...I thought about it.” 

“Oh.” Steve smiles in spite of himself. “Is  _ that  _ what you were thinking of.” 

If Bucky’s good arm wasn’t holding a fork, he would have swatted him, but he settles instead for a good-natured eye roll. “Something like that,” he says. 

“Is that a yes, then?” Steve asks, addressing his napkin rather than looking Bucky in the eye.

“It’s a yes,” Bucky says confidently. “It’s definitely a yes.”

 

After breakfast, Bucky goes off to thank the prince for his hospitality and assure his medical staff that their services will no longer be necessary. He promises them that if he should change his mind, that he’ll be back, and that he’s sure Steve will keep in touch, he hopes they don’t mind postcards. Alone in the room now, Steve picks up the phone and dials Tony with shaking fingers. 

 

He’s not entirely sure if Tony will pick up at all, unsure if he’s already done too much damage to whatever it is they shared, and he fears that he might be on his own on this one. But Tony, to Steve’s great surprise, picks up on the third ring and doesn’t even immediately hang up. 

“Tony, hi, it’s Steve,” he says, and he can practically  _ hear  _ Tony’s eye roll from here. “I know. Caller ID.” 

“What do you want?” Tony asks, but his voice sounds oddly good-natured. They’ve only spoken one other time since coming to the prince’s compound, a tense phone conversation where Steve cried and Tony told him that he might move forward someday, but he would never fully be able to forgive either of them. But at the end of that conversation, they’d both agreed that if one needed the other, they were just a phone call away. 

“He wants to do it,” Steve says. “To go to the hospital. Can you help me?”

There’s a long silence at the end of the line, and Steve is half-certain that Tony is going to tell him to fuck off. “Does he?” 

“Yes. We had a talk about it last night and we agreed it’s the best possible option for us.” 

“Had a talk,” Tony snorts, and Steve blinks innocently. “Yes…” he says slowly.

“Uh- _ huh _ .” Tony, for his part, sounds entirely skeptical. “Anyway. I’ll talk to my people at the program and see what they can do. Best case he’s probably thinking six months inpatient and however long outpatient his doctors deem necessary. He’s going to have to be completely compliant, do whatever they tell him to do, or he can’t be in the program anymore. I’ll let them know you’re coming and to get a bed ready for him. They’re not going to torture him, not going to do anything terrible to him, it’s a safe place and everyone there is the best of the best. Has he thought about his arm options yet?”

Steve’s mind is reeling, and there’s not even a pen or a piece of paper nearby to write it down. “His...arm options?”

“Well, he’s not going to walk around with just the one, is he?”

In truth, they hadn’t gotten that far in their discussion, but Steve blinks slowly and says “I guess not…”

“I’ll draw up plans for a new one. A graduation gift, if you will. Anything else?”

_ What?  _ Steve’s mind is still reeling, so he settles for saying “nooooo….” 

“Great.” Steve swears he can hear Tony smiling on the other end of the phone, and feels like he might have entered a parallel universe. “Let me know when you’re back in the States.”

“Will do,” Steve says, then hesitates. “I owe you one, Tony. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You sure do,” Tony says. “Bye now.”

 

When Bucky comes back into the room, shoulders relaxed, smiling, Steve relays the information Tony gave him back to him, watching his reaction carefully. 

“Six months is a long time,” is all Bucky says, and Steve freezes, certain that Bucky is about to change his mind, trying to prepare himself to react. It’s a surprise, then, when what Bucky says next is “but, y’know, not as long as forever,” and closes his good hand over Steve’s.

Steve smiles, glances down at their hands. “You’re right,” he agrees. “Not as long as forever.”

 

There’s a plane on the way and a bed in the best psychiatric hospital in America waiting for Bucky and the whole rest of their lives laid out in front of them with great promise, and Steve has never felt more sure of himself. “Let’s go home, Buck.” 

Bucky smiles, rests his head on Steve’s shoulder. “Take me home,” he says. 

 


End file.
